SLEEPING AROUND Poem by Henrik Nordbrandt

I love to sleep around
in foreign rooms
with foreign women
and hear the rain on the roof
and hear the banana plant scraping against the gutter
and hear the water pipes gurgle
and a radio switch on in the room next door.

I love to hear a woman
break out in moans in a foreign language.

I love foreignness:
the one room more foreign than the other
the one woman more foreign than the other
the tiger's roar in the yard under the moon.

I love when I am in love
with a certain one

and I hear all of these sounds

alone in the dark